Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. “Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. Well, while we were smoking our pipes, and quaffing our punch, Alsatia turns to me and says, 'Mint,' says he, 'you're well off here. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet.
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